


Acumen

by SweetAndSharp



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aren't they cute?, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, M/M, None of this is probably advisable, sekrit lives!, semi-schmoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetAndSharp/pseuds/SweetAndSharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is dating Vivian and living with Arthur. It's a little weird, but working for the moment. Trust Uther to upset their happy balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acumen

**Author's Note:**

> There is no ninja angst in this one, I swear.

 

Merlin can tell at once that Arthur is in a state. If one thing can be said about the Pendragons to tether them together, it's that none of them are subtle about their moods. It is only the cause or the intent of the mood which they keep to themselves. Morgana can be furtive, but she is always so clearly being sneaky. Arthur is like that with anger, he's angry, but reticent to speak on the source. Uther is the most transparent of all, but it seems to be because the old tyrant feels as if he can behave any way he likes because he holds the purse strings.

 

After so many years living together Merlin could have written a small book on Arthur's physical tells. He's been stressed the last few days, without a doubt, but this is a new level of upset.

 

 _Ah_ , he thinks, _it's going to be like that, is it?_

 

He also knows there is no hope in getting a Pendragon to divulge their disquiet if they don't want to, so he carries on. He sets down his satchel beside the hall door, going through his standard arrival routine. He is eager to get out of his suit, but instead heads over to sit next to Arthur to take off his fancy shoes that pinched his big toe just a little.

 

Arthur has a deposition on his lap and is pretending to read it, but he is mostly rifling the pages and fiddling with one of his hideously expensive pens. The legal pad beside him is bereft of any notes, though it did have a doodle in the corner of a sword. It reminds Merlin of the notes Arthur took at university.

 

He resists reaching out quell the whirling pen in the jittery fingers by braiding his his own with them but barely. Instead Merlin wordlessly parts himself from his shoes and gives a sigh. He leans back and begins at his tie next. Despite being obviously troubled, Arthur rarely comes right out and speaks about whatever is bothering him. Merlin has discovered that prompting or cajoling always makes Arthur even less willing to discuss what has put him in a mood. However, letting him simmer in his own juice, or, even more effectively, obeying whatever hasty orders Arthur barks seems to make him capitulate more readily than any methods that involve actual effort. So, Merlin sits, making no reference to the lackluster attitude or the small raincloud floating above Arthur's head and precipitating sullenness.

 

As predicted, it doesn't take long.

 

“How was travel?” Arthur asks.

 

It is a formality, Merlin knows. Politeness. Working up to it.

 

Free of his tie Merlin shrugs and says. “Could have been worse. The rain's knocked off now.”

 

Arthur grunts.

 

Merlin sits for a few moments in quiet, then climbs back to his feet, heading toward the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

 

“Vivian called.” Arthur ejaculates in a rush, but manages to sound most reluctant about it.

 

“Ah.” Vivian. Well. That's both revealing and unexpected. While it still made Arthur's stormy mood troublesome, Merlin allows himself a small smile and a tingle of excitement to race down his spine. It's been a while since he's last seen Vivian, what with the long hours he's been pulling leading up to the presentation to investors today, coupled with the recent case Arthur was working. It was high profile, and that invariably meant Uther was pressuring everyone for a win and that kept Arthur very busy. It also kept him tied up in vicious, anxious knots, as if his force of will could prevent him from disappointing Uther. Knots Merlin had spent his spare time valiantly unloosening, as he's done since he met Arthur. Between all of that, Vivian has fallen by the wayside. A long time to go without your lady friend.

 

“Don't 'ah' me, _Mer_ lin.”

 

“Well, what did she want?” Merlin tries to continue on casually, fetching out a mug and examining the tea selection as if with great deliberation. Casual is better. Knowing when to push and when not to. Once Merlin chases away the smile he turns to glance at Arthur.

 

Arthur shrugs. “I didn't ask.” He mumbles, turning his pen end over end.

 

Merlin desists his tea preparation and replaces the mug on the shelf. As he walks toward the bathroom he begins to unbutton his shirt. It's a bit wrinkled. He could do with a fresh one.

 

“Where are you going?” Arthur says at once, posture going ramrod straight.

 

“I think I'll go see her. A drink, or dinner. It's been awhile.”

 

Arthur squirms. “Merlin, is now really the time?”

 

“Clearly Vivian thinks so. I've missed her.”

 

Arthur makes a constipated little face, but Merlin ignores it, dipping into the bathroom to turn the spray on to warm.

 

“You oughtn’t go out with girls like her.” Arthur calls.

 

“I'll go out with whom I like,”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“There is no but here, Arthur. You should spend less time worrying about me and more time considering making yourself scarce.”

 

With a sigh Arthur gives up the ghost and reports in a sullen tone that Vivian is going to be having drinks at The Boiler Room at eight. Merlin smiles and heads into his bedroom. Eight gave him plenty of time to get ready for his date.

 

When he comes out to head to the shower Arthur is gone.

 

 

♥

 

 

Merlin spots Vivian at once at the bar. Striking and blond and looking edible in a crimson blouse and flirty but modest skirt. He likes that about her; she knows how to dress to flatter her figure without looking trashy, or hosed down in glitter. Plus, the heels are great. New, he thought, black and tall enough that they might look eye to eye. A warm twist of pleasure unfurls through him with the realization that he's seeing her often enough to know her wardrobe.

 

He just watches her for a moment, as she's fiddling with the straw in her drink, but looking much more at ease then she had three years ago. The Boiler Room had been unequivocally her turf, the first and only place she'd let him meet her and the atmosphere such that no one batted an eye, but Merlin wouldn't have said she was really comfortable with the place. She's slowly gotten better about it and the neighborhood. Now they are leisurely working their way through the restaurants that surround the club. They stop into the coffee shops, bakeries and ice cream stores one by one. It's been slow, but she doesn't mind going out, now. Not as long as it's just in this section of the city.

 

At last Merlin trots up to Vivian and slides onto a stool beside her. “Hello,” He greets.

 

Vivian's face breaks into a happy smile. “Hello,” It's purr of pleasure. Merlin kisses her cheek while Vivian flags down the bar tender and orders Merlin a drink. Scotch and soda.

 

“I'm sorry I haven't called sooner,” Vivian says.

 

Merlin waves the apology away. “I know you're busy. While you're free would you care to have dinner with me?”

 

“I'd love that,” Vivian almost makes it sound like a confession.

 

“Caribbean or Thai?” he asks.

 

“Let's be dead dull and have Italian. I've wanted to go back to that little ristorante with the red awnings.”

 

Merlin nods. That is the first restaurant they had been to. Stromboli's. It's two streets down from the Boiler Room, small, but delicious food and copious candlelight. At the time he'd been so enormously relieved the experience had been good he'd left a much larger tip than was strictly necessary.

 

His scotch comes and he lifts it to her in a toast. She smiles again and raises her own in response.

 

 

♥

 

 

 

“Arthur had a meeting with Uther today,” Merlin broaches carefully. They've tried the bruschetta on special, and the waiter has just brought out their entrees; pasta fagioli for him, and a veal fillet with balsamic vinegar for Vivian.

 

Vivian stiffens a moment, then gives a little shrug and resumes cutting her veal. “Isn't Uther always meeting with Arthur about something he hasn't done properly?”

 

“I'm worried about him.”

 

“Is there something to be worried about?” Vivian asks.

 

“I think there might be. I don't want to go behind his back and ask Morgana what it was about. I want Arthur to tell me. When he's ready.”

 

Vivian reaches across the table to slide her fingers over his wrist. Her nails are painted some fashionable dark color that looks black but is probably a very dark red or purple. They are warm on Merlin's pulse point. He entwines their fingers.

 

“Give it time. You know how he is, how he can't always say things. God knows you complain about him enough to me.” She rolls her eyes, and Merlin chuckles.

 

“Anyway, I don't want to talk about Arthur. Your presentation was today, how did that go?” And they fade into everyday talk. Merlin tells her about his presentation to the potential investors and enjoys how intently she listens. Arthur usually sums it up as 'that environmental stuff', but Vivian really pays attention and asks questions that prove when they'd talked about his work before she had been listening then, too. Listening, comprehending and remembering.

 

Merlin yammers a bit, as he occasionally does when he's excited about work. To be honest, he's always excited about work and he carries on until Vivian shakes her head and gives an unladylike snort. “You are such a nerd.”

 

“I'll have you know I'm saving the world one solar panel and renewable resource at a time. I'm like a super hero. Someone should get me a cape.”

 

“You'd look silly in spandex. It'd bag at the knees.”  
“I only asked for the cape, not the whole uniform.”

 

“You can't just run around in a cape and jeans this those ridiculous T-shirts you wear. If you're going to be a super hero you have to go at it whole hog. Captain Reduce, Reuse Recycle.”

 

“Too wordy. What about Greenman?”

 

Vivian frowns. “Isn't he that leafy faced man they carve on churches?”

 

“Fine. The Sustainability Avenger. Avenger S for short.”

 

“I'm not calling you that.”

 

“You could. You could swoon and say-” Merlin effects a high gaspy feminine voice for this bit- “'Thank you, Avenger S! With these solar panels you've installed my electricity bill will be less per month and I'll be reducing my carbon footprint! Thank goodness you were here to save the day' and I'd catch you and say something, um, heroic.”

 

“Assuming you caught me from this swoon, which I have my doubts about, what could you possibly say that would be heroic about solar panels?” Vivian's brow is arched.

 

“Erm...”

 

Vivian waits.

 

“Well, usually they just say something like 'It was nothing, Ma'am. Always remember to recycle' and then I'd rush out into my Sustainabilitymobile and drive off.” This time Merlin deepens his voice into his best sincere idealistic superhero voice.

 

“And that was supposed to get my knickers wet?” Vivian says expectantly.

 

“Well, ideally. The deep voice and all.”

 

“The girly one was more believable.”

 

 

♥

 

 

Paper dessert cups long since disposed of, they stroll up to her building. Merlin's never been inside, but he likes to make sure she gets back in okay. It's a good neighborhood and all, and while Merlin isn't exactly a detriment to a determined thug, it's gentlemanly to see her to her door. That Vivian can take care of herself and Merlin in a pinch if she needs to is neither here nor there. Also, he knows she likes knowing that he cares, that he isn't rushed to go on to the next thing. That just spending the night in her company is enough. And it always is. There's such an ease to their chatting as they ate and strolled.

 

He leans in to kiss her cheek again. She smells like lemon sorbet. “Call me soon, alright?” he says against her skin.

 

Vivian fiddles with her clutch then looks up at him, and for a moment Merlin is worried there is something wrong. There, in the forearms. It's apprehension...but there's determination in the chin.

 

“Hey,” He murmurs and reaches a hand to stroke her cheek. “What's wrong?”

 

“Come up with me?” Vivian blurts suddenly, gaze slipping away and then pinning back on Merlin.

 

He stares at her a moment, unable to contain his silent surprise. She's always been intensely protective of her space. They always go back to his place for any shenanigans and she's out the door as soon as they're done, even if there's regret in the departing gait.

 

The invitation makes Merlin's chest tighten a little bit. He wants to see, of course he does, but he doesn't want to infringe, either. Or make her rethink the offer.

 

“If that's what you'd like. If you're sure.” Merlin says cautiously.

 

Vivian hesitates, then nods. She steps away to open the door and shoos him in.

 

Merlin has looked inside the foyer before. It's really tiny, with the mail slots and the narrow staircase. He doesn't even know what apartment number hers is, and so waits for Vivian to slide off her heels and take the stairs in bare feet. Her toenails are painted. There is something cautious in her movements and Merlin doesn't know if he should be quiet or talk, if he should reach out to touch her, or if that would be too much after the offer of this intimacy. He settles for quiet, for leaving her the bubble of safety.

 

The apartment is small, basically a sitting room divided from kitchenette by a breakfast bar. Ajar bathroom door, the other closed door probably the bedroom. There is a scant amount of furniture, rather utilitarian, and everything is amazingly tidy. From the stacked fashion magazines on the low coffee table to the few cooking implements in the kitchen. Where most people would put an entertainment center there is instead a vanity covered in beauty products. On the wall beside the vanity Igraine Pendragon beams and pouts and grins and smoulders out of a great number of framed photographs from her various shoots. No candids.

 

Vivian drops her clutch on the little couch and holds her hands up almost helplessly.  
“Well,” She says. “Here it is.”

 

Merlin does a sweep of the room and nods. “Cozy.”

 

“Oh, do shut up.”

 

“What? I was being nice.”

 

“You're walking on tiptoes.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“You are so. This was a mistake.” Vivian wrung her hands together.

 

“Hey,” Merlin approaches and collects her hands between his own, chafing lightly. He can feel how clammy they are, the nervousness she thinks she's hiding from him.

 

He caught her gaze. “It's fine. We're just a little nervous, yeah? Both of us. But that's okay.”

 

Vivian nods and let out an unsteady breath. For a few moments they just stand, breathing, acclimatizing. When she seems to have more of a hold on herself Merlin snakes his hand around the back of her neck to run a thumb along her vertebrae just above the nape of her neck.

 

“You just need something to take your mind off things, don't you?” He asks in gentle tones, watching the downcast eyes under the false lashes. Vivian nods again, soft. Merlin makes a murmur of understanding then and rubs them thumb back and forth a few more times across her neck.

 

“It's alright. I know. It's alright to need this, Vivian. You worry, need something in your mouth to make all that go away. It's okay.”

 

“Merlin...I....” she starts, but never finishes. For a moment her eyes flick up to him and he can see her relief and embarrassment. It's all he needs.

 

He sits back on the couch, which is gray and reasonably comfortable. Vivian automatically goes down on her knees before him, soothing at her skirt and then tucking long blond hair behind her ears.  
“It's alright, you're a good girl.” Merlin repeats, knowing there were some things she needs to hear over and over again. “It's alright. We'll make it better. Open my trousers and take out my cock.”

 

It's an easy order, and Vivian can do this. It's easier for Vivian. She runs her hands up Merlin's thighs then goes for his belt buckle. The metal jangles loud in the little apartment as she undoes it, then reaches inside to tug his briefs aside.

 

“Get me hard.” He commands when she tugs him out into the air.

 

She really doesn't have to expend that much effort. Just seeing her like this is enough, here, in her most secret place, in her cocoon with her head bent. Knowing he's the only one ever to see this, to see her. In some ways it's a shame. She's not dainty like rail-thin Igraine but she's beautiful and vital, and so fucking sexy. It's something that surprised him, when he first met her.

 

Vivian noses, mouthing at his cock softly. Soft lips meeting equally soft skin. Merlin slouches down, giving her access, feels her lip smear as she nuzzles deeper to lap at his sac, face muffled by the folds of fabric. From his lap come the deep sounds of her inhaling, breathing his smell deeply as she presses kisses over his flesh, touches his semi-pliant genitals to her cheek as if wanting to rub the scent into her skin.

 

He stirs and she shifts, eyes lifting up to him in concern.

 

“It's alright.” Merlin says. “I just don't want the zipper hurting you; and I want to watch that pretty mouth,” He drags his trousers down a few inches so Vivian can work and he can watch without impediment.

 

Her lips curve just slightly before she dips down, kissing and nuzzling at his skin once more, perhaps more aware how witnessed she is. She lays her affection over his sac, the tops of his thighs, the root of his cock until Merlin is breathless and hard. Only then he presents his cock head to her lips, smearing it across her lipstick.

 

“Suck.”

 

And she does. Long draws across his flesh. He let out a rumble of approval, watching her head bob over his lap, hair swishing, red lips stretched, the light flashing off her earrings.

 

It's good. Warm and delicious, and though she's better Merlin can still see it there. Just between her shoulders. How can he not? So Merlin presses in, fingers sliding to the back of her neck, stroking a moment. She doesn't hesitate or tense, her trust in him absolute...and Merlin would never do anything she didn't need.

 

“Here we go, Vivian, I've got you.” He soothes once more, then he's pressing her down on to him, forcing her into filling her mouth until she's choking on him. Going deep into the muscles fluttering at the invasion. Then he holds her, keeping her mouth spitted on his cock.

 

“Where you belong.” He reminds her breathlessly, looking lazily over the bulging lips, the damp chin. Her eyes go wide, grateful, then lull happily. The jerking motions of her gagging feeling more like needy suckling. She can't breath, suffocating around him, and if anything it seems to content her for almost fifteen seconds before true revolt for oxygen starts. He lets her go at once then.

 

“Noo!” She slurs wetly when he pops free of her lips. “No-longer! I-I-I need- Merlin, please!” She's gripping his thighs, eyes entreating. “I can-longer- please? Please!”

 

Merlin clucks then. “Greedy. One more. Only one. I don't want to hurt you.”

 

Vivian nods eagerly and falls upon him again, moist flesh slick as she tries to take him all down in a rush.

 

“Slow, Vivian. Get your breath. If I'm going to be generous and give you what you want you're going to keep your word. Longer. Ready? Good girl. Here we go,” He helps again, pulling her down until her nose is against his pubic hair, mouth totally impaled on his flesh. It's almost like a sigh, the way the tension leaks from her, from between her shoulders. For a few seconds she sags, relieved, fulfilled, before her body automatically begins to liberate itself for air.

 

He restrains her. Keeps her there. Counting. Her muscles beat a frantic dance over his cock and it's almost too much. He can feel it when the tears join the spit.

 

At a count of twenty five he releases her, and Vivian falls back away from him. The breaths she draws when she pulls back are scratchy, messy. She's crying. Saliva pools down on his cock, which stands proud and firm, undeterred by the expression on her face which would otherwise be considered miserable. Except her eyes. Vivian's eyes are soft and rapturous.

 

“Hurry up.” Merlin admonishes when she's sucked a few gulps of air. “I'm cold.”

 

She presses herself back onto her knees and her head dips to lap at his glans again, while she pulls a few moist breaths. Soon though, she has him back in her mouth, working him over precisely, greedily. One hand wrapped around his root, thrusting in and out, the wet making perverse clicking sounds. Merlin gives over to groaning before long, every now and then bucking his hips into her mouth. God, her plush mouth. He loves her mouth.

 

When he's almost to the brink he grabs her by the neck and hauls her off. She's panting, confusion filling in the splayed lines of her. He softens the motion by stroking her lower lip.

 

“Stand up. Pull your skirt up. Show me.”

 

She comes to her feet, a little giddily, tugs, pulls it, the hem catching over her thighs, exposing the fussy candy-apple red garter belt. The special panties are doing their job, maintaining the line of her skirt by keeping male flesh prisoner, but Merlin can see the line of her erection. He can see the wet spot where pre-come has seeped into the material. With care he reaches out to thumb the spot.

 

“Look how hard, Vivian. I haven't even touched you.” His eyes rise back to her face, still blown open and needy. “Do you have a bed?”

 

Vivian nods.

 

She leads him through to the bedroom. More decorated than the living area. The open closet is full to bursting with whimsical female clothing, and the shoe rack installed at the bottom is filled with custom made boots, heels and sandles all paired and lined up. Merlin can even see the white garment bag hanging on the inside peg.

 

By the time they get to the bed Merlin has doffed his trousers entirely. He catches her peeking at his straining cock presenting impetuously between the panels of his shirt.

 

The bed has an ornate pink duvet and a crown canopy in pink gauze. So fussy. So feminine. She's blushing, lashes swept down, standing beside it.

 

“Take your blouse and skirt off and lay down. On your back, head hanging off the end.” Merlin orders, almost a little breathless with what he's going to attempt as he removes his own jacket and shirt. He'd read up on it as much as possible. As much as you can.

 

Vivian's fingers tremble, he notices, as she removes the items, standing in her red, red underwear. It looks so good next to the pink-white of her skin. She takes the position with some haste, blue eyes quizzical but interested. She's still so hard, that little wet patch getting darker.

 

He comes forward then, braces his hands on her biceps and looks her in the eye. “Open, Vivian. If it becomes too much, raise your hands.”

 

Her eyes go wide again with sudden comprehension, and she moans. “Please, Merlin- _yes_ \- !” Her head dips back and she opens.

 

Merlin circles his hips gently, and then slots his cock into her gaping mouth, bracing his hands against her biceps. He starts with some caution, getting accustomed to what it feels like, sliding into her waiting open mouth, how to avoid her teeth, how not to hurt her.

 

It comes together soon after, and Merlin can feel how this is meant to work. So he leaves gentleness. Vivian doesn't want it anyway. He thrusts in, fucking her mouth in aggressive surges that ripple onto the bed. At first her throat is working wildly, and then she begins a muffled, wild, moaning sound. An animal keening of pleasure as he just takes from her, holds her down and forces her to accept the invasion. Being impaled on him over and over, his balls bouncing against the proud bridge of her nose. It's a high, doing this. A thrill of domination to just take, move.

 

But he's cautious. Merlin pants, keeping an eye in case her hands let go the duvet and raise, but they don't. They're fisted, gripping. Her hips are also working frantically, the bed bouncing with both their impulses. He sees it just before it strikes. When she arches, feet lifting her pelvis up as she just gives over to the intense claiming. A gurgled frantic sound leaches out of her, fluid bubbling between her lips when the little smear of precum on her panties blossoms into a warm pool with her climax. She's whimpering something helpless and sated.

 

The notion sends him over, that he'd face fucked her into climax. Merlin has enough presence of mind to pull out to giver her air...and to ejaculate all over her wrecked, slippery and disheveled face. Tears leak from her eyes, mascara trekking upwards from the corners, make up destroyed, mouth, chin and even nose smeared with saliva and precum. Snot too, and now semen shot in an artistic diagonal. Some drips into her mouth, open to gasp in air. She swallows automatically.

 

He drops at once to cradle the back of her her head.

 

“Good girl, Vivian.” Merlin whispers.

 

 

 

When the storm passes, Merlin feels a strange sort of contentment outside of being physically sated. Intimacy with Vivian was always good. This is something...more.

 

He's pulled his clothes back on after holding and petting Vivian on her bed while intermittent shakes overtook her. When she whispers an excuse for the bathroom, he rouses himself to examine the kitchen and make them some tea.

 

The kettle has just shrieked when she exits from the bedroom.

 

He watches as Vivian sits at the vanity and clicks the bright lights on. They illuminate almost the whole room. Vivian looks in the mirror, touching the blonde fringe with semen in it. She smiles though, and relief lathers over Merlin's chest. He isn't entirely sure how one launders wigs, but if this one were permanently ruined he figured there would be more upset on her behalf.

 

Gingerly the wig came off, onto a waiting styrofoam head, where it was arranged so it could be daubed clean with a wet wipe. When he brings the tea to set on her vanity she makes a murr of noise which seems to be a thank you. He perches on the couch to watch.

 

Vivian-fuck, is it Arthur now? Merlin isn't sure where the transition point is, he's never been allowed to before. When is Arthur Vivian, the girl he dates and has fairly perverse sex with, and when is Vivian Arthur, his best friend and roommate?

 

Vivian wordlessly pulls the little nylon wig cap off, and then glances at Merlin through the mirror. Her cheeks are pink, her mouth swollen. She drops her gaze hastily when he meets it. Merlin smiles, then spurns himself to get up. He can't just sit there drinking tea, somehow. He's not a witness any more. Not a part of the audience to be wooed by the transformation. He can see how the magic works, from here. He's a participant.

 

He pulls the little ottoman over beside the vanity and looks over the collection of bottles, tubes, jars, and other assorted mysterious paraphernalia until he locates the nail polish remover. Armed with a moistened cotton ball, Merlin grasps Vivian's left wrist and begins to stroke away the polish on that hand. Vivian always wears it and by the time Arthur gets back to the apartment it's gone, his hands still smelling faintly of sweet chemical. Merlin sometimes thinks of it, when coupled with the faint traces of perfume, as Vivian's ghost.

 

There is no resistance from Vivian, but when Merlin looks up, her expression is torn between flushed embarrassment and fond pleasure.

 

“Do you think you can tell me?” Merlin says carefully, letting his eyes drop back to his self appointed task.

 

She sighs, but it is more defeated than stubborn. “Uther called Arthur in to talk about merging Gawant and Pendragon into one firm.” Her voice is the smallest bit whispery from their enthusiastic activities.

 

Still Vivian, then. Merlin, unable to resist, glances at her looking at herself in the mirror. It doesn't look like Vivian, without the hair, the make up smeared to all hell and now the fake eye-lashes peeled away. Some chimeric half Arthur half Vivian, caught in between states of being. The plush mouth is compressed though, a familiar sign of unrest.

 

“And?” Merlin prompts when she seemed to procrastinate, rotating all the bottles so the labels faced outwards.

 

“He thinks that...it would go so much better-would make such good PR if Arthur married Elena Gawant. She's Godwyn's daughter. She's an employment rights lawyer, has a number of high profile cases under her belt. She breeds champion horses, too. She's nice, really, Arthur's always liked her, but she's...” Vivian makes a helpless sort of gesture.

 

Merlin did remember Elena. Godwyn Gawant and Uther have been friends a long time, had maybe even gone to university together, and subsequently their children entered each other's orbits not infrequently. Elena is more Morgana's friend, though. Merlin sort of remembered her from one of Morgana's birthday parties. Blonde, a bit klutzy, but spirited and goodhearted.

 

Arthur would eat her alive within a week, with his temper. Merlin can see it all mapped out without even bringing Arthur's orientation issues to bear. Arthur would work himself to death when he wasn't trying to be Uther's model of a good husband, meanwhile Elena would devote herself to her horses until starved of emotional connection she had some sort of ill-advised but desperately needed affair with a groom.

 

Vivian continues, the tub unplugged. “Uther thinks Arthur is too old to be living with his college friend, with a roommate at all. He thinks Arthur should be married by now and have an heir, someone to take over the firm from Arthur. He thinks since Arthur hasn't done anything about it on his own he might as well do it for him.” Vivian speaks slowly, her throat flexing in between the words. Seemingly for something to do she raises trembling hands to remove her jewelry, earrings and necklace, dropping them into a glass candy dish on the vanity.

 

“He...won't give Arthur Junior Partnership unless Arthur marries her.” She says at last.

 

Anger flashes through Merlin and his fingers tighten on Vivian's. “But he promised that! He promised that if yo- if Arthur won the DeSilva case he'd be made Junior Partner. It was already years overdue then!”

 

Vivian shrugs. “He changed his mind.”

 

Merlin swallows against the sharp words aimed at Uther. No matter how horribly Uther treats Arthur, Arthur still can't bear for Uther to be spoken ill of. Even as Vivian. It had struck Merlin as odd, that. Even as Vivian there was no vitriol for this tyrannical domineering parent.

 

“It's not right.” Merlin repeats stubbornly. He scrubs away until all of the nail polish is gone from the first hand. He discards the cotton ball and scoots himself and the ottoman to the other side before he arms himself with another to work on the other hand.

 

“It's the way it is. Unless Arth...unless I marry Elena.”

 

They sit in silence while Merlin cleans Arthur's other hand. He doesn't know what to say, not about the sex or the words they've exchanged or the process going on that is changing Vivian back into Arthur. When he finishes with the hand Arthur rises from the pouf. He glances at Merlin almost shyly and begins to disrobe with his back to him.

 

Merlin alternately watches Arthur's shoulder blades work under the skin, framed by the brassiere straps. At his legs in the stockings with the seam running down the back, a little butterfly just above the heel. His hands as he carefully hangs the blouse and skirt up on expensive looking wooden hangers. He doesn't go to replace them in the closet, but on a hook inside the little coat closet by the apartment door. Just like their flat. It was the to-be-drycleaned hook.

 

It is strange how familiar so many of the alien motions were. Watching Arthur doff the shaping underwear, the stockings, and shift into a robe. Not the sort of robe he has at the apartment, which is stalwart and terrycloth and brown, but a sleek kimono styled dressing gown, in a lush crimson. Monogrammed. Vivian likes red. Rich red. A lot of her clothes and shoes are red. Arthur always seems afraid to wear it, except for his ties, which are all red, or red with stripes.

 

Arthur goes into the bathroom, and Merlin half listens to what sounds like a multi-step cleansing progress while he reflects. His musings bring fearful conclusions, which crawl in his guts like worms.

 

“Is that why you asked me up here?” Merlin finds himself asking when Arthur steps out, drying his face. Fully Arthur. “So that I- so I could see Vivian go away? A sort of final send off?”

 

“What? Oh, fuck no-” Arthur plunks on the pouf and grasps Merlin's wrists. “No, I wanted you here, no- fuck Merlin, how could you think I would...? No. It's...complicated.”

 

Merlin nods. He can think of few other words to describe it, though he suspects Morgana would have been without mercy and identified their strange liaisons as FUBAR. It isn't as if he has a right to protest decisions Arthur makes. They don't really have a Relationship to speak of. They have something fragile and strange, and, yes, maybe a little bit fucked up, but without definition, therefore without rules or expectations.

 

But, Arthur is holding his wrists. Running his thumbs over the tender skin at the innermost points, right under the heels.

 

“I had to think today, about what I would do. If I married Elena, what it would be like. It wouldn't be bad. I mean, not good but, she's alright. I like her well enough, but I wouldn't be able to love her properly, and she could never know about this. She wouldn't understand it at all.”

 

“Maybe she could,” Merlin prompts He hates advocating for Arthur to leave him, but if it is what he wants, even if it's only to satiate the tyrant Uther, he'd rather support Arthur and break his own heart because Arthur has no one else to give him that. Not even Morgana, who just screams and snarls a lot about what Arthur should do.

 

Merlin might die of heartache the day of the wedding, but he'd give it a good go. Maybe make it until the end of the ceremony. Maybe.

 

Arthur shakes his head. “No. She wouldn't. I'm not sure I'd want her to. That's what I realized today when I was thinking. When I made up my mind.”

 

“What?”  
“That I don't want anyone else to see me, like-- that. And I can't simply marry a woman because my father wants it. It wouldn't be fair to her, to lie, like that. To stand up in a church and make all sorts of promises in front of witnesses, promises I could never keep, because...” Arthur sucks in a breath, eyes lifting to Merlin's, catching them. “A man should have integrity. Should act in ways true to himself. I can't lie for him.”

 

Something sweet and yearning leaps up in Merlin's chest. He reaches a hand up to cup Arthur's cheek, to sweep along jawbone. “Oh?”

 

“No. I work hard for him, I give him so much, but he's only worried about the future, about seeing what he's built go on. I can respect that. I'm just- I can't give him everything.”

 

“You work ridiculously hard for Pendragon Law.” Merlin agrees.

 

Arthur snorts. “No more than you at that ridiculous hippie flower-power place.”

 

“ Blessed Biotech. You know what it's called.”

 

Arthur shrugs. “Whatever.”

 

“Arthur. You were saying?” Merlin tries to gently steer Arthur back to something he suspects might be important, but for reasons of emotional constipation Arthur is avoiding. “What did you make up your mind about?”

 

Arthur's eyes slide away again. He clears his throat and goes to fiddle with some more things on the vanity. Merlin catches his hands, tugs until Arthur is facing him again.

 

“Arthur.”

 

Arthur looks up sheepishly. Blows out a breath. Then he shrugs, and his eyes go a little soft as he meets Merlin's gaze. “You're, I don't know, just... _it_ , Merlin. I just-I don't know how to. Not as me. Not without all this.”

 

Merlin follows the sweep of Arthur's eyes around the little apartment, Vivian's little world. Safe.

 

Merlin looks back at Arthur and ventures carefully. “Do you want to?”

 

Arthur shrugs.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin says sternly and waits until Arthur looks at him again. “Do you want to? Just as you? Without Vivian?” He asks gently.

 

Merlin can see the conflict. All those Pendragon tells. Tension in the shoulders despite its earlier exorcism. Eagerness in the knuckles, fear in his feet and uncertainty in the pull of the mouth.

 

Arthur settles for a jerky shrug. Merlin can translate that.

 

“Whatever you want, Arthur, we'll do. I just. You know, don't you? That I love you? Vivian, Arthur, I love the person underneath, I love them both because they're both you.”

 

Arthur lets out a startled little noise, and it's so disbelievingly pleased Merlin slides onto Arthur's lap just to be nearer to this magnificent man. He's gratified when Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin's waist and cuddles in, rather than rejecting. Merlin has never been on Arthur's lap, or even touched him in this way. Vivian, yes, but Arthur? No. There's something wonderfully simple about it, and about the happiness lurking at the corners of Arthurs mouth, and the ease in his shoulders once more.

 

“I love you. Ever since university- practically when we first met. If you married Elena I would have killed myself.” Merlin promises softly.

 

“No you wouldn't.” Arthur's voice is gruff and fond. “You're too much of a girl's petticoat.”

 

“Coming from the man that wears them.” Merlin shoots back.

 

Arthur shuts him up with a kiss. Merlin is more than happy to be distracted, throwing himself into the adoring embrace. It begins as almost a challenge, but softens midway through into something tremulous and poignant.

 

When they part, Merlin smiles at Arthur's vulnerable expression. He rests his head against Arthur's.

 

“We'll figure it out.” he murmurs, thumbs easing at Arthur's neck, at the hinge of jaw under his ear.

 

Arthur flashes him a grateful look, lets his eyes droop a little.

 

“Arthur?”

 

They come back up, catch Merlin's mouth, then his eyes.

 

Merlin blinds him a cheeky grin and teases. “You'll be gorgeous in a wedding dress.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So. This came when I was supposed to be working on the Chakra of Merlin.
> 
> Actually, it came from thoughts about crossdressing. It pops up in Merlin fandom now and again. It's not really my thing and I don't really see it as a thing for the canon characters. First of all, Arthur is probably a virgin until he marries. I just can't see him despoiling serving girls. He'd think it was ungallant, because Arthur wholeheartedly believes in the knights code, whereas Uther has a sort of as-long-as-it-aligns-with-my-immediate-wants arrangement with all codes of conduct. I can't see Arthur scoring with squires or knights either. So much of Arthur is about control and doing what his Father would approve of. So he has this flood of pressure from Uther, the Council and being a Prince as well as his own notions of what the expectations of those things are, and the tension isn't being expelled through sex. He's hyper masculine in many ways. It would be unmanly not to bear your burdens, although Arthur gets to beat men up in training, kill small animals and abuse Merlin to soothe his savage beast. I can see that working for him.
> 
> However, if you uproot Arthur and put him in modern times you're opening his world view and psychology. You also open up sex as a way to get approval, and so many avenues to find the twisty parts inside you without the automatic devotion to monarch and patriarch, Arthur's position becomes so much more bendy. So....this happens.


End file.
